Chase Case
by Miss Mango
Summary: It seems that Jacob Wheeler has finally got it together. With an exciting career and the girl of his dreams beside him, he feels invincible. But an insidious nightmare is just around the corner. Evil is about to enter his life. Set in New York City, Linka/Wheeler Alternate Universe (AU), with cameos from the other Planeteers
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Hello everybody! I want to thank the other lovely authors on this fandom for the inspiration to continue writing. I've tried a new approach to what is in the end a love story… with a twist, of course! The first three chapters focus on the romantic component, from then on I'm aiming for a thriller-type of read. Therefore, since I'm doing something a little different than usual, feedback is absolutely encouraged!

 **Keep in mind that** _ **Italics**_ **denote flashbacks**

Chapter 1

Jacob Wheeler took a sip of the scalding coffee from his styrofoam cup, merging into morning traffic with a small sigh. He had twenty minutes before the start of his 8am shift and only three more kilometers until he reached the station, so he was not particularly worried. Instead, his mind started calculating the hours that separated him from Linka. His shift at the fire station was twenty-four hours long, and by the time he'd get home the following morning, Linka would already be at her office job. She was a statistical analyst for the World Wildlife Fund (WWF), proving that beauty and brains could, in effect, peacefully coexist.

Therefore, it would be at least thirty-six hours until he could hold her again, he sighed, drumming his fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel. Even though he'd just left the warmth of her arms, Wheeler already missed her. He was ridiculously in love with the woman, he told himself for the umpteenth time, not without a foolish little smile on his face.

When he pulled into the parking lot of the station, he realized that he had changed in a significant way since meeting her. Sometimes, his need for her morphed into a sort of physical ache he did not pretend to understand. He'd become so accustomed to her presence, the velvet of her skin, her scent, especially since they'd moved in together, that it was unimaginable to envision one day without her.

Wheeler suddenly prayed for multiple calls at work, so that at least time would pass more quickly and his mind kept occupied. Otherwise, he would just have to work out longer than most days. Being a firefighter in New York City was definitely improving his physique. Not that he'd needed much help to begin with, since he was tall and broad-shouldered, but having a physical job had surely increased his muscle mass. He'd seen numerous women take notice of his impressive body, or maybe it was the fact that he possessed the classic boy-next-door smile and pretty blue eyes. In fact, he'd never had problems with women even before becoming a firefighter. He did not really believe all that bullshit about men in uniforms having more charm than the average Joe. He'd seen some ugly firemen in his time, he chuckled to himself, locking the doors of his Range Rover as he exited the vehicle.

Even though, to be fair, it was just over a year ago that he'd joined the team. It was thanks to his uncle Lou that Wheeler had chosen a decent career path. He'd never been much good at school and was actually a high school drop-out that had gotten his diploma later on than his peers.

Wheeler came from a rougher neighborhood in Brooklyn, a product of a dysfunctional home, so he was thankful that he'd had uncle Lou to grab a hold of, like an anchor in a sea of chaos. The now-retired firefighter was his mother's older sibling, and he had never fully approved his sister's decision to marry Wheeler's father. It had turned out to be prophetical, in fact, since Wheeler's dad was a violent alcoholic who had made Wheeler's teenage years a sort of living hell.

Uncle Lou had practically pestered Wheeler to volunteer at the fire station where he was working at the time, giving the young man a push in the right direction. Wheeler felt blessed to have had at least one person who'd been lucid enough to think about his future.

Wheeler had a passion for helping people and the adrenaline that came from facing danger. Therefore, responding to calls was his favorite part of the job. Linka had told him that her heart would hammer with preoccupation anytime she heard of emergencies happening in the downtime area, and even though he'd been pleased by the sincerity of her caring revelation, he would not trade his job for another.

The sky above him was grey, although rain was not in the forecast. He leisurely walked to the back door of the station, pulling it open with ease. The concept of someone worrying over his wellbeing was new, mused Wheeler. His dad was out of the question, for he only ever cared about gathering up enough money for his next drink, and his mom was too busy looking after her husband's pitiful condition.

Wheeler did not know what he'd done to deserve Linka in his life, but he was as thankful for it as each breath in his lungs. His mind travelled back to how they had first met; fate had been smiling on him, then. Well, not fully, since Linka had not been initially smitten with him, to say the least. It had been his sheer persistence that had won her over in the end, and it had taken hard work on his part! More than he'd ever cared to dish out in the past, in fact, but it had royally paid off in the end.

While going through the motions of signing in for his shift, Wheeler succumbed to the flashback of the evening his eyes had taken in their very first glance at _love_. He felt the magic of the memory on his tongue, sweet and soft and overwhelming.

* * *

 _The night of the party was the warmest one of the summer so far, but the breeze made it pleasant rather than heavy to bear. Wheeler followed his friend, Kwame, inside an elegant apartment complex before they ducked into a waiting elevator to reach the last floor. Wheeler didn't know the host of the party, only little details that Kwame had provided along the way. Her name was Gi, she was a marine biologist, and apparently one of Kwame's best friends._

 _It was a few months that Wheeler and Kwame had started hanging out together. Kwame had an all-natural produce shop in the downtown core, and he and Wheeler had instantly bonded. Wheeler admired the dark-skinned young man's dedication to the environment and his quiet wisdom. His family had witnessed the horrors of the Rwandan genocides but had luckily escaped to America thanks to a family friend. Wheeler believed this was in part the backdrop to Kwame's level of maturity and sensitivity. Wheeler could tell that Kwame respected him, in turn, and the New Yorker would delight his friend with tales of his adventures at work._

 _Gi had set the party against the fading skyline, all the way up on the rooftop, and little strings of pale yellow lights decorated the space tastefully. Kwame spotted the host among the crowd and they hugged, Gi's smile wide for her friend. After formally meeting, Wheeler thought the Asian girl incredibly sweet and welcoming._

 _He wasn't sure what happened next, but all thoughts fled his mind like wild herds from hungry lions. Gi was pulling closer a girl their age so she could introduce her to the boys. Wheeler stared at the blonde addition as if she had been beamed down from heaven itself, his mouth surely gaping. She seemed ill-at ease with the attention, her features set expressionless before them. But it wasn't every day a guy met a gorgeous gal like that, so Wheeler let his eyes travel over her splendor._

 _The girl was clad in a long, auburn dress, simple yet stunning on her, her long blonde hair loose over her back. Her eyes were piercing and cool like jade or Caribbean ocean waters, skin flawless, lips like a cherub, and a body with all the right curves. Wheeler thought for sure she was a model, and he couldn't help but picture her modeling diamonds or some other classy product._

 _He watched her blink at his intense assessment of her, her long eyelashes curling over those captivating eyes, before she retrieved her hand from his warm handshake. Apparently, he wasn't thinking clear enough to release his grip on her hand in a timely fashion._

" _Linka moved to NY from Russia not long ago," Gi smiled, beaming at the blonde proudly after introducing her. "We met through a work-related conference and now we're inseparable!"_

 _Wheeler watched silently as Kwame made polite conversation with Linka. She nodded and responded briefly to the boy's queries, her movements controlled, her eyes shining intelligently. Wheeler's tongue would not work and words would not come to him. It was as if his brain was filled with thick smoke; he felt lost in the haze swirling inside him._

 _He listened to her voice caressed by a sensual accent that further added to her appeal, feeling stupid and inundated by heat all the while. Meanwhile, Linka seemed immune to him, something Wheeler was not used to from the opposite sex. She actually seemed a tad annoyed by his insistent glance, and he spent the rest of the evening trying to figure out how to approach her._

 _Thankfully, the opportunity presented itself. Gi spilled some red wine over the front of her dress, and Linka immediately went inside to retrieve some club soda for her friend to help with the stain._

" _Want a beer, man?" Wheeler asked Kwame, who nodded with a smile as a response._

" _Help yourselves, guys. There should be some cold ones on the table. If not, there are some more in the kitchen."_

 _Wheeler took little heed of Gi's instructions, and even though the table was well-furnished with all kinds of drinks, he bolted for the little staircase that led inside the building._

 _Linka was closing a cupboard when he entered the vast kitchen area, and he saw that she had retrieved the small bottle of soda. She looked up at him and slowed her movements as he stood before her._

" _Hey," he smiled, trying to casually shove his hands inside his pockets and not believing the fast racing of his heart inside his chest. It was madness!_

" _Linka, is it?"_

 _The Russian girl nodded, carefully, clutching the bottle a little closer to her._

 _Then, she spoke at last. "Jacob."_

" _Everyone calls me Wheeler," he retorted, hoping to God he was not blushing at the way her lips had caressed his name. He'd never felt more like a teenager in his life!_

" _So… uhm, how do you like the big city?"_

" _It is still overwhelming," she disclosed with a small smile that aimed at his heart and centered it perfectly. "But… it is also beautiful, in a way."_

 _Wheeler's cell phone started ringing and he cursed it just then. He contemplated not answering, but if someone was calling him at that late hour, it had to be for some valid reason. He muttered an 'excuse me' to Linka and reluctantly answered._

" _Wheeler, hey," the voice on the other end was saying, and Wheeler ran a hand through his red hair, frustrated. Not now, God, please!_

" _Leave everything and get your ass over here. McFlurry came in with a fever and he just got worse, so chief's sending him home. We need you here at least until morning."_

" _Great timing, man," Wheeler groaned, meeting Linka's curious glance._

 _The voice on the other end laughed. "Bet she's a hot one!"_

" _You have no idea," was Wheeler's response, an ironic smile on his lips. "I'll be right there, but you all owe me big time for this."_

 _He clicked his phone off and sighed a little shoving it in his pocket._

 _"Work. I'm sorry, I gotta go."_

 _"Oh," Linka's voice was colored with curiosity, but she did not add more. She was probably assessing whether it was any of her business asking what kind of a job required after-hours attention._

 _Wheeler solved this dilemma for her by explaining, "I'm a firefighter."_

 _She seemed impressed, but let her glance fall from his. Linka did not appear too comfortable being alone with him in her friend's kitchen, and this only intrigued Wheeler further. She was, possibly, the opposite of every other girl he'd met in the city thus far._

" _An exciting job, I assume."_

" _Never a dull moment," he grinned, and she smiled a little. Wheeler felt his body relaxing for a moment. He had not realized he had been so alert, tense even._

" _What do you do?"_

" _I analyze data for a non-profit organization, as well as program their website. It is not as riveting as what you do, I am sure."_

 _Wheeler was stunned. He never would have thought she could do something so unrelated to her external appearance! Office people could often be so blah and plain, while she was sweet-holy-mother-of-God-_ _ **wow**_ _!_

 _A group of people entered the kitchen then, some sober, others not so much, and Wheeler and Linka made their way back up to the party, where the redhead said goodbye to both Kwame and Gi. Linka had been pulled aside by a couple who seemed to know her. She distractedly waved goodbye to him, and Wheeler left feeling like a puzzle in the middle of a hurricane, all the pieces blowing in the wind. He was unsettled, his thoughts were not so clear, and he felt drunk on something he had not drank. That was his first taste of Linka, and he unquestionably wanted more._

 _Once he reached his destination, Wheeler made his way to the 'commons room' of the station, knowing it would probably be nearly empty at that hour. No emergencies usually meant sleep for the crew, but Wheeler did not sleep a wink the night he met Linka. Visions of her haunted his brain until morning, and he was glad there had been no calls because he was feeling utterly distracted._

 _Before noon the next morning, his replacement showed up, so it had been a shorter shift than Wheeler was used to, even though it had felt endless to him in his current state._

 _He made his way to his car and put it in gear before pulling out of the lot. He grabbed his cell phone and, plugging in his headset so that his hands were free, he dialed Kwame._

" _Wheeler, how was work? Sorry you had to leave so soon last night, my friend," Kwame quipped when he answered on the third ring._

" _Not as sorry as me, man. How was the rest of the party?"_

" _Fun."_

 _Wheeler slightly tugged at his earpiece impatiently, while biting down on his bottom lip thoughtfully._

" _Hey, about Gi's Russian friend, Linka… did she come with anybody at the party?"_

 _Kwame hesitated, seemingly trying to remember. "I don't think so. She talked to a few people throughout the evening, but that was it."_

" _Did she hook up with any of those clowns?"_

" _Wheeler, what are you getting at?"_

" _You gotta help me see her again, man," Wheeler said with a determined tone of voice, unable to keep any secrets from his friend. "Think up something, anything! But don't tell Gi your real motives, or else she'll tell Linka and I have a feeling she'd freak out a little."_

" _She did seem very reserved," Kwame agreed, before a small sigh betrayed him. "Listen, Wheeler, do you think that's such a good idea? You messing around with one of Gi's close friends could impact my friendship with Gi."_

" _I don't wanna 'mess' with her!" Wheeler readily replied, a tad undignified. Sure, he hadn't been relationship oriented up until now, but change was an inevitable part of life! Usually, the girls he dated would maintain his interest for a very brief span of time, then for some reason or another, it would end as insignificantly as it had begun. Kwame always teased him a little about his bachelorhood, but Wheeler justified himself by saying he just hadn't met the right girl yet. And who was to say Linka couldn't become that, someday? She had sure served him a lot to think about in one night, and he found himself fascinated by her, simply smitten._

" _Kwame, just make it happen, I'm beggin' you! I need to see her again. I just want a chance to talk to her some more."_

" _When have you ever just talked to girls?" Kwame bantered, and Wheeler could picture him grinning._

" _Dude, come on! I intend to be every bit of a gentleman, FYI."_

" _Let me think about this, Wheeler. I still need to assess all the risks involved."_

" _Kwame!" Wheeler rolled his eyes, but gave in to laughter once he heard his friend lose composure on the other end. He knew he had convinced Kwame, however, and this made him grin for the duration of the ride home._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Kwame had been devious. It had surprised Wheeler, naturally, as Kwame had always been the embodiment of upright behavior ever since they'd met. But for Wheeler's sake, he had told Gi he wanted to organize an outing to Coney Island, to show Linka around and give her an opportunity to meet more of their friends. What he did not tell the Asian girl was that no one aside from him and Wheeler would ever show up. He had even staged a few calls in front of the girls with cancellations from the rest of the group, and Wheeler had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

The American remembered everything about that Sunday afternoon. It was clear in his mind like polished pleasant sunlight and the calm ocean waters glittering, how his heart sped up when he took in the sight of Linka again, and his persistent need to be close to her. He even remembered what she was wearing, jeans and a pretty sleeveless blouse that reflected her eye color. Her long hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was sporting dangling earrings and lip gloss. Perfection, he'd thought, meeting her eyes. She'd seemed more relaxed than the evening of the party, and he'd used all the time he had trying to walk beside her and engage her in conversation. He could not have put any moves on her in that group setting, but he probably would not have tried, anyway, had they been alone. Linka really did like to keep to herself, she was not rambunctious or overly chatty, coming off as downright timid in some instances. Her collected aura had been a revelation to Wheeler, for he'd never met someone with such graceful ways before.

The day had been over too quickly and by the time they had left, Wheeler was not anywhere near his goals. Oh, the frustration! He did not have Linka's number and he still had no way to connect with her if not through Gi. They had parted without promising to see each other again, like acquaintances.

Kwame had teased him on the way home. Wheeler was easily surpassing the speed limit (they were close to travelling at the speed of his frantic thoughts) as he listened to his friend's jabs. According to Kwame, he had totally fallen for Linka and, what was worse, she hadn't even seemed to notice! A conundrum, indeed! Wheeler knew he just needed some quiet time alone with her, without the others interrupting and distracting what _should_ be. He could not accept that he'd had no effect on Linka whatsoever! He knew he was charming, he'd had ample proof to believe that. It was commonplace for girls to melt around him, struck by his confidence and good looks.

He had tried to read Linka's glance during their outing, but his brain had become so jumbled whenever their eyes met that he had not been able to decipher anything at all. His thoughts were pointing every which way, confusing all the cardinal points. He had never felt so drawn to anything else before; it was a freakishly strong phenomenon. It reminded him of the power of thunderstorms unleashed in the unsuspecting summer skies.

* * *

 _A week following the trip to Coney Island,_ _Wheeler was leaving his uncle Lou's house in the late afternoon. At least a couple of times a month they would meet to have lunch, talk about the fire station, work and life in general. Wheeler enjoyed these get-togethers, and looked forward to them immensely. It was not always pleasant coming home to an empty apartment, after all, and even though he had plenty of friends, he still felt lonely more days than not. He missed that sense of family, of belonging, that he'd never really had growing up. He carried that vacant vortex inside like a hidden war wound, hiding it from view._

 _Wheeler was sitting in his truck, playing with his phone, when he impulsively decided to look up Linka's place of work. He bit his lips as he waited for the results to appear. He felt like a concoction of crazy mixed with a touch of excitement, but he couldn't stop his actions. The Russian girl was rooted inside him now, setting up camp comfortably in the chambers of his heart. There was an address listed for the local branch, and it was only five blocks away from where he was parked. He decided it was fate and moved right along._

 _Wheeler walked around for a while, his eyes seldom leaving the revolving doors of the red-bricked building for fear he would miss her. About fifteen minutes later, Linka emerged, shining as gorgeously as the sun. She could have lit up the graying skyline, looking professional and beautiful in a white dress shirt and a black, above the knee skirt. Wheeler, not without effort, tore his eyes away from her shapely legs just in time to mix in with the crowds of people flowing out of the adjacent buildings, then casually bumped into her._

 _"Linka, hey!"_

 _"Wheeler!"_

 _Her tone was surprised, but she was smiling, and he took it as a good sign. If possible, she was even more alluring when her eyes were lit up with the light of her smile._

" _Is this where you work?" he casually asked, thumbing the building._

 _Linka nodded, examining his eyes a little. "What are you doing here?"_

 _Her tone was not unfriendly, but it was not filled with nonchalance, either. It only made him more eager to get past her defenses, for she kept guard over her emotions like a good soldier._

" _I just had a visit with my uncle, he lives over on ninth street. I was going to get a coffee on the corner here. Would you… uhm, like to join me? If you're not rushing off anywhere, that is."_

 _Linka seemed to consider him thoughtfully, then her countenance relaxed and she adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder._

" _Coffee would be great right now, da."_

 _Wheeler grinned, feeling as if he'd just won the playoffs. He was victory-dancing in his mind. Yes! Finally, some time alone with the girl that had worn out his brain for weeks on end!_

 _Once inside the café, they chose a table by the window and he walked up to put in their order. Her smile for him was sincere when he placed a cup in front of her, black, no cream, like she'd asked._

" _Today is your day off?" asked Linka, placing both hands around the cup as if to warm them. A sharp wind was picking up outside, rusting the streets to life._

" _First of two," nodded Wheeler, leaning back a little to study her face to his liking. He wanted to imprint in his brain as many details as possible, as silly as it may have been. He could not decide what was more beautiful about her, those eyes or that rosy mouth, her porcelain skin or her fair hair. His heart was on a underwater rollercoaster as he pondered this over._

 _They talked easily and Wheeler was pleased that she seemed relaxed enough to open up a little more to him. He found out about her family in Russia, her work environment and the adventures she'd had with Gi so far. She, in turn, was curious about his job as most people were, and he answered her queries with enthusiasm, trying to make her laugh with his anecdotes and succeeding._

 _The sky had turned almost black by the time Linka announced she had to leave. Wheeler offered her a ride home but she shook her head no, and the faint blush on her cheeks told him he shouldn't push it. So he walked her to the top of the subway stairs where she was preparing to descend, then gently took her arm to stop her movements._

 _Her eyes studied him silently and he prayed for eloquent words to grace his mouth._

" _Linka… listen… okay, I realize there is no subtle way to ask you this, but… can I have your number? I mean, is that… would that be okay?"_

 _Damn, not at all like he'd prepared in his mind, but his capacity to think was in slow decline with the scent of her shampoo so enticingly close. He'd never sounded more insecure in his life, God, what was wrong with him?_

 _Wheeler was scanning her eyes, watching as she tore her glance from his. He didn't want to scare her off, and the fear of her rejection was paralyzing him. No other reply could ever be as important to him as this. But she wasn't answering him now and her face didn't seem so serene as it had before._

 _Wheeler bent his head to seek out her eyes and she blinked up at him, moving her head a little._

" _I'll use it wisely, I promise," he teased with a small smile, crossing his heart for emphasis. She mirrored his smile (victory!) before biting her lower lip. Seeming torn, she assessed him a moment longer before slightly nodding._

" _Give me your phone," was her demand as she held out her hand. Wheeler offered it to her and watched her dial on the screen. Her eyes met his while her own phone started ringing from inside her purse. She was calling herself. The sound died midway as she hung up the call. Very clever, for she could screen the call now if she so desired, thought Wheeler, impressed._

 _Linka handed him his phone, seeming now ready to leave._

" _Thank you for the coffee," she nodded a bit, before starting her walk down the stairs and disappearing from sight._

 _Wheeler stood motionless, gripping the handrail, dumbfounded and pleased and impatient all at the same time. The incredible ease with which Linka seemed to rock his entire existence was shocking, to say the least, but he felt no fear. Just happiness in its purest state._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

After greeting the team, Wheeler decided to start his shift at the fire station by checking the equipment on the fire engine, a part of the daily routine. He was going through the motions automatically, having done them so many times before, while his mind continued travelling down memory lane. It wasn't a rarity for him to be thinking about Linka consistently at work; she had been his prevailing thought since the first time they'd met, actually. He had known right off the bat that Linka was not like other girls, at least not the ones he was used to. This was partly due to their differing cultures, among other things. He'd looked up more information on Russia after meeting Linka than any other topic he could ever remember, trying to figure out her context better. There had been plenty to learn and he'd been an eager student, for once. Linka was guarded, so he'd wanted to proceed with caution and intelligence. For example, he hadn't called her right away after obtaining her number. Instead, he'd meet her outside her work every now and then until he could feel her become more at ease in his presence. He'd liked her gradual warming up to him, it felt more like an important conquest rather than a given outcome.

When he'd first asked her out on a more formal date, he'd been met with her indecisiveness. Linka had fidgeted and reflected deeply until he'd said something silly to make her laugh, breaking the tension. Wheeler had let her make up her mind without pressuring her, and he'd learned the art of being patient in the process. It was a shift from his spontaneous and rash personality, but it only drew him in more, this exploration of other horizons alongside her.

Wheeler had given in to the temptation of renting a motorcycle for the weekend, allowing himself that little luxury. He was efficient with his money most of the time, and now that he had a decent paying job, he could surely treat himself to something nice every once in a while. He'd never had money growing up. His family had never been financially stable. When he was just a small boy, he remembered opening the door to the fridge and often finding nothing but beer and Jack Daniels bottles. It was impossible to forget the contesting rumbles in the pit of his stomach. Often, he would prayed his buddy Joey's mom would invite him over for dinner. And that she'd adopt him, too, while she was at it, so great had his need been for normalcy.

The eye-catching motorcycle had been worth every penny just to see Linka's surprised face when he'd picked her up, holding out a helmet for her. She'd blinked up her long eyelashes at him, her mouth set in a little circle of surprise.

" _I have never been on one before,"_ she had smiled a little with awe, slightly caressing the shiny vehicle as if it were a pony. The sleek red Ducati had nearly purred underneath her touch, Wheeler revving it up a little more for show.

" _There's a first time for everything!"_ he'd laughed back a little, helping her up so that she could take place behind him. They had ridden around the streets of New York for a while, Wheeler never having felt such blissfulness before (he'd figured it was the combination of speed and a beautiful girl that did it). He had taken Linka to the harbor, particularly beautiful at that time of day. They'd ordered stylish drinks on the patio of a refined restaurant at twilight (knowing the owner sure had helped!), observing the alluring effect of the fading sun on the water.

Wheeler still remembered how fantastic being with Linka had made him feel. He had noticed people's eyes lingering on them, for they made an eye-catching couple, young and good-looking. _He_ himself had never taken his eyes off Linka, for everything about her was graceful and controlled. Inspiring. She was his muse. He never had to pretend listening to her like he'd often done with other girls. He was genuinely interested in what she had to say, she was intelligent and sensible, and he fell a little more for her that night. He wasn't sure how much more there was to fall, at what height he stood, and finding out there were more and more storeys each time left him breathless.

Surprisingly, Wheeler had not tried to kiss her on the first date. He knew Linka would not easily consent to that. Physically speaking, she was aloof, not like other girls he'd dated who readily took his hand or brushed up against him on purpose. He'd become skilled at picking up all their little signals over the years. Linka, on the other hand, kept a sort of distance, a personal sanctuary of sorts. So Wheeler had tried to respect her personal space as much as possible. For once, his needs had become secondary.

As the weeks passed, they had spent more time together. Wheeler had taken her bowling and to the movies, she'd dragged him to the Met museum which he had surprisingly enjoyed despite his fussing. They'd shared meals together and walks, attended a baseball game where he'd explained the basics of the sport to the Russian girl, and they'd even shared some late night calls. His heart would do flips over her sleepy voice and hushed tone, it reminded him of a soft kitten he wanted to cuddle, and he had troubles believing he was the same Wheeler in those instances.

But no kisses thus far. Wheeler had been holding himself back like never before. Suddenly, a kiss had taken on another meaning for him. It was the tail gate of a star (elusive), dew on morning grass (pristine), dawn over ocean waters (sacredly beautiful). Although, it was extremely difficult being around Linka and not take her in his arms and kiss the living daylights out of her. Her mouth, her eyes, they all cast a hopeless spell on him. His resistance would inevitably crumble and soon, this he knew.

Then one evening, Wheeler's urges had won the battle raging on inside him, and he had never regretted it. That night had marked the beginning of his romance with the beautiful Russian girl, and he treasured every sweet detail in his heart.

* * *

 _Wheeler's eyes went to Linka's manicured hand as she reached over to push the elevator button in the foyer of her apartment building. He liked that she took care of herself, the elegant but unpretentious way she selected her clothes and sported her silky hair. Maybe it was an innate part of European girls, he mused, the soft femininity she possessed. Linka balanced it well, with a no-nonsense attitude that made one stand to attention._

 _Her apartment complex was stylish and well-lit, made up of many floors. Wheeler had walked her home after an evening out together, and he was grateful that she had let him without too many arguments. One of Linka's prevailing characteristics was her pride. Another one stubbornness. She had a strong character that forever intrigued him. He could also be pig-headed when he chose to be, and this left him wondering about the coupling of these elements. Sparks could be created, no doubt. Linka was always so in control of every situation he actually feared a first fight! He told himself he would have to be careful not to upset her. The American still wasn't sure if he and Linka were officially a couple. The confirmation seemed to be lacking. So far, they had been engaging in nothing but friendly behavior; no lines had been crossed into romance._

 _On that particular evening, he felt he could take no more of the ambiguity. He'd wanted to kiss that mouth the entire evening, and he'd been unfocussed as a result. His eyes kept wandering over to her lips, the heart-shaped top and full bottom. The temptation was too great and he wanted to lose himself in her essence, her softness, her flowery scent._

 _Wheeler gently took her hand, pulling the blonde towards him. Linka examined his expression silently and he let his eyes caress the outline of her face. His movement had forced her to take a step towards him, and soon they were standing close. A fraction of a second, the time it takes to blink, and Wheeler was bending his head to capture her lips, moving with slight movements as if afraid she would disappear like a frightened doe in the forest._

 _Her lips were soft as rose petals, and he let his arms slide around her waist, intoxicated by the contact. Linka seemed uncertain at first but he left her no room for second thoughts. Wheeler sighed a little, deepening the kiss. He felt passion breaking through like water through a dam. The taste of her was inebriating like strong wine, and all else disappeared from his mind._

 _Wheeler felt her hands push against his chest, applying slight pressure. Not expecting her sudden withdrawal, he was momentarily at a loss for what to do. His posture became statue-like as he examined Linka's face. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes low. It didn't appear as if she wanted to meet his glance anytime soon. Even though he'd felt her softening in arms moments earlier, she was back to cool and controlled._

" _I… uhm… I… have to go," Linka murmured distractedly, with a small head shake, brows furrowed. She seemed as if she had been catapulted into another dimension and was now dealing with the jet lag. The Russian girl ducked into the waiting elevator, head low, biting her lip, and Wheeler did not have the time to reply anything. The doors were closing before him._

 _Mouth agape, he wasted only a moment watching the metallic doors reflect his shocked expression. Then, determination took a turn coloring his face, and he ran to the stairs, intending to catch up to her as if his life depended on it. Nothing else mattered in that precise moment. He hated thinking he'd just messed up his chances with the only girl he could ever truly love, for God's sake! Had he been too blunt, too daring, too honest? Was the timing off? Too soon, too late?_

 _Wheeler was torturing himself with these queries as he reached the first floor. Seeing that the elevator was travelling past, he climbed another floor with ease. Stairs were nothing to him, just part of his daily training! His muscles moved rapidly, he felt adrenaline color his blood._

 _When he finally saw Linka emerging on the sixth floor, he was slightly out of breath. He examined her movements, calculated and swift, but he could also see a certain fluster to her that was new. The Russian girl seemed lost in her private considerations._

" _Linka, wait!" Wheeler called from nearby the stairway, and she came out of her reveries with a jolt. Linka's eyes lit up with surprise at seeing him there and she stood still for just a moment._

" _Firemen always take the stairs!" the American tried to joke with a small smile, although he didn't think she would be in the right vein. He was positively right._

 _Linka did not speak and instead bolted for the door to her apartment, obviously not wanting to take up anything with him. He could tell she was not really angry, more embarrassed somehow. With slow but sure movements, Wheeler walked up to her and took her arm, putting an end to her flight. He was the confronting type, always had been. Good, bad, scary, he was used to affronting everything head-on, like a powerful collision with reality._

" _I'm not sorry I kissed you, but I am sorry you're upset," disclosed Wheeler, lowering his tone to more sincere levels. His touch on her was light, letting her know she could pull away anytime. She did not, however._

 _Finally, her eyes met his. What he saw there were emotions she often kept guarded, like unborn children. She was trying to process everything at once, and for the first time since he'd met her, Linka seemed at a loss for what to do._

" _Jacob, please do not do this," she replied above a whisper. Linka sighed and ran a hand through her hair, the gesture distracted and helpless. "You… expect things, and I am not good at relationships. You and I are very different and we would only end up being upset with one another in the end, and I do not want that."_

 _Wheeler took her other arm gently, so that she could fully face him. Her expression was torn and her beautiful face dabbed with a hint of sadness. Her mouth was set in a slight pout, and his heart kept beating for her. Wheeler realized in that moment he would do anything for that girl, and this only energized him further._

 _He let his fingers caress her cheek tenderly, and his eyes locked on hers. It was a moment beyond the power of words, only ruled by strong emotions. Behind her eyes was sincerity but also uncertainty, and he hoped she could read in his eyes how vital she had become to him._

" _I think about you all the time, that's never happened to me before," Wheeler let out all of a sudden, his tone between a plea and a secret confession._

 _Linka shook her head slowly, unsure of what to add. Wheeler took one step closer to her, eliminating the distance between them. He wanted to do the same with misunderstandings between them; abolish them definitely. Somehow, she'd (wrongly) deduced that he was the type of guy that could easily play with a girl's emotions, then leave her to nurse her wounds. He admitted to himself that he may have been that once, in the distant past, in the folly of youth, only not so cold-hearted. The thought of it now made him ill. He never wanted to do anything to upset Linka, for he now understood the full meaning of being enamored. The excitement, the sleepless nights, the all consuming daydreams. He wanted to live that out with her, forever._

 _With a sigh, Wheeler let his fingers continue their trajectory over her facial features as he tried explaining himself. "You say you're not good at relationships and well, neither am I, to be perfectly honest, but it doesn't mean we can't try. Maybe we could learn together. Hell, I've always been good at catching on quick!"_

 _Linka's lips twitched a little at the corners and he took it as a sign to chance another step closer to her. His arms went around her delicately and she lifted her eyes to his. Her eyes had softened, become increasingly hypnotizing to him._

" _Just… don't pull away, babe. I couldn't stand that," Wheeler whispered to her, his voice almost breaking with emotion. His heart was pumping at ridiculously high speeds, for he seldom let himself be so open. He'd learned from an early age not to give too much trust, to always watch your back and be ready to attack. Where he came from, it was "checkmate and you're dead" sort of a philosophy. But he felt that strangely fall away with Linka. He was inspired by her morality, her way to see the world. She was vulnerable but he could be, too, and perhaps if they demolished the cumbersome barriers between them, a sprout of hope could take root. Something beautiful could grow, he was willing to bet his life on it._

 _Wheeler held her tightly in the middle of the hallway, cherishing the contact, and she rested her head slightly against his shoulder. Her hair smelled of jasmine and he inhaled her scent, comforted by it._

" _Is it… okay if I kiss you? I don't mind doing another six flights of stairs afterwards, I swear."_

 _Linka actually laughed before burying her face in his chest, trying to stifle her mirth. Her cheeks were the color of raspberries, and Wheeler gently sought out her lovely mouth._

 _Their second kiss wasn't as furtive or hasty, it was definitely more sweet and audacious, and Wheeler had a hard time releasing her from his embrace. He'd never felt such satisfaction from kissing, it was a wonderland of quivering feelings that played havoc with his senses. All he could think about was that nothing else in the world could ever top his current happiness._

* * *

He'd been wrong, of course, smiled Wheeler to himself, heading to the change rooms for a morning workout. Linka had invented new kinds of happiness for him to try on, things he had never imagined existed. Her presence was like a shield to his heart, keeping it warm and full. He had been cautious, of course, letting Linka adjust to their new relationship. She seemed to like taking her time with things. Then, there had been the occasional time she had been unsure, moody, and they'd fought. Lord, how they'd fought over the silliest things! He knew it was Linka's way to test out their bond, see how committed he could be to her. In the end, they were both consoled by the fact that neither of them could stay mad for more than one day, and as penitence, they would lose themselves in their conciliatory kissing and embracing.

Wheeler realized early on that Linka was guarded as a person; she'd led a tough life, after all. Her parents had died when she was very young, and her grandmother and older brother had raised her in less than ideal circumstances. He found out she'd had her heart broken and therefore, trust came as no easy task to her. Wheeler had needed to gain it, little by little every day, taking baby steps some days and giant leaps the next. But he'd never given up on her, for he quickly discovered Linka could be the most beautiful creature on this Earth when she'd let herself breathe. She could embody love like no one before in his life. He compared her to a plant that took its time to bloom, and needed that little extra care, but then, the flowers that finally appeared were blindingly beautiful.

Wheeler still remembered his last birthday and raw emotion colored his memories. He'd been home getting ready for his morning shift when he'd heard the doorbell ringing. The redhead had wondered who in the world could want him at quarter past seven in the morning, and he'd ran a hand through his disheveled hair before pulling the door open.

On the other side had been Linka with a small cake in her hands, a lit candle on the top, the flame reflected in her shining orbs. Wheeler had simply choked up, not expecting it. A waterfall of emotions rushed through his being. No one had ever taken the trouble to celebrate his birthday before, even at home when he was a child, his parents had never made a big deal about it. No party, no presents, often no cake or even frosted cupcakes. _Nada_. He'd always assumed he was unimportant and he'd learned to accept that.

But to see the sweet look in his girlfriend's eyes and her loving smile, knowing she had baked that cake, walked three blocks then taken a train just to surprise him before work nearly caused him to lose it there and then in the middle of his apartment. He had taken her in his arms and held her tighter than ever, afraid she was a mere illusion, something incredibly good he did not deserve.

Linka had laughed at his fierce embrace first, then she'd been moved by the raw emotions on his face. She had kissed him, soothing and sweet, and he'd had a hard time letting go of her. He knew then that Linka was the cure to all his sickness.

They'd had cake and coffee for breakfast in his kitchen, where he'd showered Linka with kisses, before Wheeler had driven her back home so she could get ready for her day.

As soon as he'd reached the parking lot of the station, he had taken some time to sit in his car and send her a text message explaining the depth of his love for her, something he'd been too moved to do earlier back home.

Even though his birthday had been spent working, Linka had made it the best one yet. Her love had been the best gift he could ever ask for. Needless to say, his workmates had teased him about the dopey smile drawn on his face for the rest of the day.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews so far, and especially to my Guest (I'm just sorry I can't PM you to thank you properly!)

I'm switching it up in this chapter and introducing a new character, so stay with me. It was very fun to write! :)

* * *

Chapter 4

 **Casey**

I examine myself critically in the mirror as I apply the last coat of lipstick, carefully following the outline of my mouth, eyes unblinking. I like the new shade that is just the right balance between casual and elegant, a nice plum hue that compliments the rest of my flawless skin. I finish off my look with three coats of mascara per eye, then place the little black tube with its companions. Everything in the drawer is color-coated, then arranged by size. The lipsticks tell the colorful story of a near rainbow, while the brushes are more neatly placed than in an art class. My green eyes swiftly take in the contents to make sure all is in order, and I exhale relaxed, seeing that all is in place. I have always drawn serenity from order. Precision. I see co-workers snickering at me once I arrive at the teller desk every shift, organizing papers and stamps and clips until they are perfectly aligned, but I don't give a fuck about what they think. I can't work in the midst of chaos. And they're apes, anyway.

I powder my heart-shaped face lastly and run a brush through the silky brown tresses that reach my shoulders. I check my watch, although I already know it will be 8:25. I calculate my morning routine to the second. I have my usual two cups of coffee and whole wheat toast before I wash all dirty utensils in the sink before I leave. After every droplet has been dried from the counter and sink, I sling my light coat over my arm and off I go, locking the door behind me before pushing on it slightly to make sure it doesn't budge. I love the certainty that comes from it.

I reach the bank ten minutes early, as per usual, and as I walk into the refined building, I thank the heavens that it's Friday. Two glorious days await me, where I don't have to pretend to like these people and laugh at their lame jokes and brainless commentary on life. As I walk past the glass-shaped information booth, my reflection appears, and I nod with approval at my short skirt and the alluring cut of my blouse. As much as I hate my job, I don't see why I can't look good doing it. _Killer_ , in fact. I smile a little before Dan the Idiot approaches me, waving that stupid little wave that fills me with rage. I remind myself coolly to breathe and plaster on a fake smile. _Eight more hours of this and then wonderful, wonderful freedom!_ , I tell myself, nodding a little to invoke courage.

Half an hour before lunch and I get Dan the Idiot to cover my teller desk while I take a bathroom break. After flushing the toilet with the tip of my heel, I pump some soap into my hands and lather up, checking my pretty reflection in the mirror. I keep scrubbing my hands under the running water. I don't trust those damn cleaning ladies. They're too sure of themselves.

It's sudden and at first I wonder if I'm imagining it, but the smell of smoke reaches my nostrils. It reminds me of campgrounds suddenly. I rinse my hands quickly to stop the sound of running water, my ears listening carefully for anything out of the ordinary out there. But even before I hear the fire alarm, swirls of smoke are rising from beneath the closed doorway. The effect is similar to smoke machines out of bad music videos in the seventies.

Heart racing, I boot it for the door and pull on the handle wildly. Nothing. I panic, before I realize that I've locked it, of course. I tell myself to breathe, unlock it, and pull again. The door doesn't budge and more panic seizes me, swirling inside me like smoke is currently doing in the small bathroom. I pull on the door again, banging on it now, frantic, but it's probably useless over the deafening sound of the smoke alarm.

"Open this fucking door!" I yelp, clawing at the door and banging on the handle. _Maybe one of those losers is trying to kill me!_ , I think, starting to cough from the smoke in the small room. I know it's unlikely, but I would still come back as a ghost and haunt their sorry asses if that were the case.

"Help!" I start to yell, fists pounding on the door. My yoga muscles are doing shit! A coughing fit overtakes me as I taste the elusive texture of smoke. It swirls down my esophagus, performing an elegant tribal dance, then settles in my damp lungs, cutting off oxygen supplies.

I kick the door, swearing and yelling through my coughing fit. With less than sane thoughts, my brain goes to the expiring milk carton in the fridge, the unpaid bills on the counter and the clothes spinning in my dryer. All things needing resolution. _My life needs me!_

My hands start to tremble and my forehead is bathed in sweat. My eyes dart around the small space, helpless, and hot panic seizes me. A thick haze has taken a hold of my head, my thoughts. The last thing I hear before passing out is the violent drumming of my heart in my chest.

When I open my eyes again, the movement comes as no easy task. I feel heavy, like led, and I try to move my head. I cringe as the back of my head throbs with the movement, which means I probably hit it on the way down. Then, a wave of panic seizes me when I realize my movements are limited. As if I'm attached to something. Or nailed down to the ground.

"Easy," I hear a voice above me, and I force my eyes to focus. Reassurance is present in the sound and I blink. _Blue_. I blink again. _Deep ocean blue_ , I think this time, as I lose myself in that hue present in his eyes. The Fire Department City of New York emblem on his uniform catches my attention next, indirectly informing me that the person hovering over me is a firefighter. His cheek is smudged with soot and I somehow want to brush it away delicately, noting the chiseled jaw line and appealing features of the stranger. My hands are reaching out and end up touching the mask placed over my mouth, instead. I instantly panic once more, my eyes widening at the discovery.

The stranger takes my hands to stop their frantic movement and meets my eyes. "It's okay, that's just an oxygen mask," he explains soothingly, with the kind of tone that makes you stand to attention. His voice is deep and warm. _Warm_. The fire. Oh God! What happened? Where am I?

"You were in the bathroom when the fire broke out. The door was jammed. Had to axe it down, actually. But you're safe now, we got you out of the building in time. So just breathe in some clean air and relax. Don't worry about a thing. Everything's under control."

 _Control_. He used the magic word. That blessed, sacred word I love, and it's like a switch has been turned on inside me. I grip his hands tightly, committing to memory the rougher texture of his skin and the steady beating of my heart.

I let out a content sigh and close my eyes, lulled by the comfort of his touch. The background noise of wailing sirens and commotion disappears slightly when my mind is surrounded by _him_ , and I feel myself drifting...

"You need to stay awake," I hear his voice, and I am stunned that he can read into my intentions. I blink and focus on his eyes, his generous mouth, wondering all the while if it's the extra oxygen that's causing me to picture those lips on mine. _I would nearly die for him any day!_ , I nearly snicker wildly, before realizing he's asked me for my name, like, five minutes ago.

"Casey," I let out, unsure if he's heard me through the mask.

Another uniformed helper comes by and he nods over at the woman. She seems a paramedic of sorts and I'm inundated by sadness at the thought that he's letting me go. _No!_ I fake a coughing fit, but this only makes the woman come closer and start to fuss over me.

"Wheeler, we need you!" I hear someone calling urgently behind us, and the handsome stranger looks up in its direction, ready for action.

"I have to go, Casey, but I'm leaving you in good hands," he smiles at me, and it's the most beautiful sight I think I have ever seen. _Warm_. I'm going to be needing a lot more oxygen than this, my heart can't seem to keep up!

He squeezes my hands one last time as the paramedic checks my mask, and he's suddenly gone. I try to follow him with my eyes, straining to lift my head from the ground, but the paramedic firmly holds my body in place. _Let go, bitch!_ , I want to yell loudly at her, but I refrain, breathing in deeply and closing my eyes once I can no longer see his uniformed body in the crowd. I focus on my breathing and repeat one word in my mind like a mantra, drawing comfort from it. _Wheeler_.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Wheeler moved out of the elevator slowly, muscles sore and head heavy as he searched for his keys in his pockets. It was finally morning and he was finally home. Not only had there been the fire at the bank to deal with, but also a chemical spill in a plant at the outskirts of the city. A real mess. His energy had been zapped by the intense adrenaline rush he'd faced in the last 24 hours.

He found his phone along with the keys and he swiftly texted Linka out of habit.

 _Rough shift. Off to sleep for a few hours. Can't wait until you get home babe. Love you_

Wheeler pushed the door to Linka's apartment open, the scent of cinnamon scented pot-pourri invading his senses. Everything was tidy and in its rightful place, the curtains drawn to let in the morning sunlight. He'd immediately felt at home here, and the feeling continued now, a month after his move.

Wheeler headed straight for bed since he'd already showered at work, undressing along the way until he remained in his boxers, mindful to drop his clothes on the chair instead of the floor. He'd learned to curb his slob-like habits since Linka was a very tidy person. He wasn't sure if her good habits were rubbing off on him or if he just didn't want to upset her. A little bit of both, he figured with a yawn.

Purposefully, he climbed into her side of the bed and hugged her pillow close to better inhale her scent. Jasmine and a hint of peaches. It made him ridiculously happy, not caring one bit about being so foolish.

The tired young man was already drifting off when his phone buzzed with a message. He reached for it, opening one eye, and smiled when he saw that Linka had promptly replied.

 _I miss you terribly, so much so I wish it was the end of my work day and not the beginning! Sweet dreams my Yankee, rest up. I love you too_

Wheeler sighed satisfied, basking in the warm afterglow of Linka's words. He never tired of her declarations of affection. Ever since she'd learned she could trust him, she'd become softer, more willing to allow him glimpses into her heart. Kiss after kiss, touch after touch, Wheeler had showed her what it was like to open up, to be transparent like a crystal sculpture, beautiful and shining. Even though he knew that his and Linka's wasn't your typical mushy love story, he was still ecstatic with it. It wasn't perfect, sure… why, not even a month ago Linka had turned down his marriage proposal! Albeit an informal one, it had still been a proposal on his end. For the time being, they had compromised on living together.

Halfway between slumber and memory, Wheeler's mind processed these recollections that led to the present state of affairs.

* * *

 _For the first time since they'd met, Wheeler had both Saturday and Sunday off in a row, which meant they could spend two days together without either one having to worry about work commitments. Linka decided this was a reason to celebrate and she arranged to prepare lunch at her apartment for her American boyfriend._

 _Wheeler had rested that morning and was now happy and relaxed, knocking on her door with both arms full. In one hand, he was holding a delicate bouquet of lilies that had what he always thought would be heaven's scent. Sweet and overwhelming. In the other hand, a small box filled with pastries from Magnolia Bakery. Linka had a sweet tooth despite her healthy eating habits, and he often spoiled her with such treats just to see that golden smile spreading over her face._

 _As expected, she rewarded him with a sweet kiss for his sweet gifts, and Wheeler found it hard to pull away from her. Linka was wearing a dusty rose dress he would have loved to rip off her stunning figure, but he kept his actions in check, even though it was becoming ever so difficult. Every single day that passed, their kisses became a little more frenetic, a little longer, a little more passionate. Wheeler didn't want to rush her, for she could still be timid when it came to intimacy, but lately it was no easy task. Surprisingly, he could see that the same amount of effort went into sustaining Linka's defenses. Her touch on his muscles lingered a bit longer, her glance was more open, and she found more ways to be closer physically to him as of late._

 _Wheeler was intent on helping her cook, or at least try to help, but Linka noticed that his attention was aimed more at the television screen, where a football game was under way. One of his favorite teams was playing, and she laughed a little, giving him permission to relax on the couch and follow the game._

 _It turned out to be a great afternoon, Wheeler mused, since his team won and Linka treated him to a delicious late lunch. She made seafood linguine and grilled fish fillet with salad, both delicious, and they finished off a bottle of sparkling white wine before digging into dessert. Wheeler then insisted he help with the dishes, since he felt guilty about not having helped her prepare the meal, and eventually Linka let him rinse the dishes she was soaping up._

 _The American felt comfortable in Linka's kitchen, loving the light that caressed her cheeks anytime she laughed at his jokes or the sparkle in her eye when he would lean over and capture her lips. He wasn't sure what it was, but something was special about that day. It was in the air, tangible. Love had penetrated their spirit, infused their souls, until every glance become important. Their eyes kept meeting and their bodies kept colliding, skin to skin, until Wheeler felt like he could drown in the intoxicating closeness between them. They had said "I love you" to each other many times before, but at that moment it was as if the feeling had taken on a physical body, as if it accompanied every touch they shared, and breathing it in was suddenly not enough. Nothing was enough anymore._

 _As if hypnotized, Wheeler lifted her up in his arms, her mouth dangerously suspended above his, holding her so that her legs could coil around his waist. When he felt Linka that close to him, and when he saw the love her eyes were unabashedly emanating, a small groan escaped his lips and he kissed her breathlessly. There was no going back now._

 _He remembered little about how they got on her bed and lots about the softness of her skin. It was silk through his fingers. Linka's small sighs were those of an angel and he waved goodbye to any sort of control. Their clothes came off. All their inhibitions followed._

 _They spent the rest of the weekend in bed. Wheeler had never thought something could be so natural, flawless. Linka did not hold back and he gave her his very heart, all that he possessed and more. Making love to her was sublime, especially perceiving that Linka belonged to him pushed his senses over the limit. She was solely his. He wanted that, for the rest of his life._

" _I want to marry you," Wheeler declared aloud while she was resting in his arms, sprawled over him comfortably, head tucked in the crook of his neck. He was tracing patterns on her lower back but stopped when he felt her raising her head to study him. She laughed at first, probably thinking he was playing as usual, until she realized he was serious. Dead serious, in fact._

 _Linka went silent and Wheeler followed suit. He was choking with the desire to figure out her thoughts, but he took his time with her, as usual. She had taught him a great lesson in patience all these months._

 _Linka was biting her lower lip, and her voice was level when she explained that although she loved him, she was not ready for marriage. Her focus was her career at the moment, adjusting to life in New York, and she had not given much thought to settling down so soon._

 _Wheeler nodded, but his mind was running around blindfolded, bumping into things. He felt a small wave of pain rising at her rejection, old ghosts taking shape in the back of his mind. His father had always told him he was no good, after all. Only a stupid person would go so fast and spoil everything. A large part of him was now scared that he had probably freaked out Linka. How could he forget that she wasn't as spontaneous as him? He blamed it on their amazing lovemaking, since it was clearly erasing all intelligent thought processes from his mind. He only felt a happy, soft, glorious haze surrounding him._

 _These emotions were most likely slapping his face silly, evident, because Linka gently took his chin in her hand and examined the blank look in his eyes. Her touch was soothing on his skin, affectionate._

" _It does not mean I do not want to get married someday," she softly let out, and when her mouth met his, Wheeler could taste her love. It was like cotton candy at a fair, airy and sweet. It was very easy to forgive her virtually anything in that moment._

" _Move in with me," the blonde smiled above him, letting her hand run over his firm chest muscles in a caress._

" _Linka, you don't have to say that just to make me feel better," Wheeler pouted with a tip of annoyance, turning his face from hers. He was starting to wish more and more he had simply kept quiet. It was nonsense, anyway. There were times even he had difficulty believing they were a couple. He still had ways to go before being worthy of placing a ring on such a fiercely beautiful woman!_

" _I am not!" Linka's reply was indignant and she used her hand to turn his face towards hers once more. Her eyes were emanating rays of sunshine and he felt momentarily lost in them. She was happier than he'd ever seen her, playful. Wheeler forgot why he was upset, all of a sudden._

" _I am asking you because that is what I want, Yankee. I want nothing more than to fall asleep next to you and wake up in your arms."_

 _Her kisses aimed to convince him then, and Wheeler forgot to keep track of his thoughts for the next couple of hours. Linka was damned good at distracting him, at getting her way, and he could do nothing but give in to her wishes._


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Seems like Casey is not too popular, LOL! This chapter explores her character a bit more...

Keep the reviews coming, thanks :)

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Chapter 6

 **Casey**

Thankfully, the paramedics don't deem it necessary that I go to the hospital, and I am discharged from their care. Some of my coworkers are not so lucky, but I shrug it off. My mind is swimming in more important thoughts at the moment, I cannot be bothered with such _trivial_ things as their lives.

I steal a glance at the half charred building that used to be the bank and wonder what's going to happen on Monday. Will we be sent to other branches? Will there be time off? Only time will tell, and I wonder what started the fire in the first place. Probably some idiot smoker in the break room. Oh well, never cry over spilled milk, Mom used to say, and I move right along.

I look down at my untidy and crinkled clothes and frown. It looks like I have just returned from a hefty battle. Distractedly, my eyes search for the fire engine, but it has already left the site, probably for a more burning call. _Ha!_ _What a great pun_ , I think, snickering to myself. And no one around to hear it! The world will never know my awesome wit!

I feel on automatic pilot as I drive home. Details are a blur as I open the door and rush to my laptop in order to power it on. I sit on the leather sofa and place the device on my lap, impatiently opening the search engine. I type 'Wheeler' and 'firefighter', hoping to come across some personal profile of sorts. Only two hits materialize, one an article on a retirement ceremony for an elderly fireman with the same name and the other a hardware store inauguration in some hick town. _Shit_. I log into a popular social network site and try searching for the name in New York, but too many profiles show up, and at first glance, none of them appears to be his.

I tap my neatly trimmed nails over the base of the laptop, the sound rhythmic, as I lose myself in thought. Perhaps I need to be more methodical about this. Something I'm good at, anyway. I calmly type in 'New York City Fire Department' and take some time visiting the official site. I immediately memorize the address for the headquarters, it's in Brooklyn, and a slow smile spreads over my face. A spark of happiness ignites within me, warming my core. Something about _him_ is lodged deep in my brain. His eyes, that smile, his touch. _God_ , I sigh, as little goose bumps form on my skin.

Next, I take some time scrolling through the gallery of the website. There are numerous group photos and dead heroes tributes, as well as community happenings and information awareness campaigns. I keep my eyes peeled for the face that is clearly engraved in my memory as I scan the group shots, zooming in like an eagle. Everyone's sporting the same uniform and the background of the shots appears to be the inside of an academy that repeats itself, so it's a lot like a "Where's Waldo" book at first. Tricky!

Finally I spot him, his charming smile makes him stand out from the rest, and a giggle escapes my lips. He is just that handsome. I save the photo and open it in a program that allows me to edit it. I merrily go to work, cutting everyone else out of the shot, then zooming in on his face, until I have my hero smiling back at me from the screen. I send the image to my printer and excitedly run to the desk, giddy as the piece of paper falls into my waiting hands. I hold it up to the light and kiss it, laughing a little to myself.

 _Just wait until we meet again,_ I think in sing-song terms, delicately tracing his face on the printout with the tip of my finger. _You won't know what hit you, darling._

* * *

It's Monday morning and the first thing on my mind is reaching Brooklyn. The rain is falling lightly over the city, and I sport a trendy trench coat over my short dress and boots. I've gotten ready with more care than I can ever remember, and I will my heart to slow down its beating as I enter the imposing building.

The main station of the Fire Department seems quiet, probably because it's early still, and I admire the plaques on the walls as I walk. I approach the switchboard and I notice two swiveling chairs behind the counter. One has been vacated but I see a steaming cup of coffee on the desk, reminding me I don't have much time to get the information I need. With great delight, I realize the other station is occupied by a young-looking girl, who's connected to a wireless headpiece. _This shouldn't be too hard_ , my internal pep talk reminds me, and I draw courage from it.

"Can I help you?" asks the girl, typing away as she briefly looks up at me from the task.

"Yes, hello," I nod, putting on a wide smile. The speech I've prepared rolls off my tongue with ease as I meet the girl's eyes, inviting her into my web of lies. "My name is June Smith. Last week, my family was saved from a fire that destroyed our house. I'm here because, well, my son, Johnny, he's six years old you see, he was rescued by a phenomenal young man, a Mr. Wheeler, I believe. Those two bonded so well in the midst of the tragedy that now he's all my son talks about. He's even drawn some pictures he wants Mr. Wheeler to have and everything. I have them here in my purse if you want to see, they're fine pieces of work, let me tell ya! The school counselor said this was Johnny's way of dealing with the trauma. So, could you kindly tell me where I can find him, or if you have any of his contact information? My son would love to thank him in person, talk to him again. I think it would help him deal with the great loss we've had to face, have some closure around it, if you know what I mean."

The young girl tips her head to one side, her short hair bouncing with the movement. "I'm very sorry, ma'am, but I can't give out staff information," she informs me as if she's reading from a manual.

"I completely understand," I nod, attempting a smile as I switch my weight to my other foot. "But can you at least tell me if he's in today? That way I'll know when to bring Johnny along. Maybe I can arrange for them to 'bump into each other' casually, you know, so that we're not breaking any regulations or anything. Please, just think how much it would mean to a little boy to see his hero again, to thank him properly."

The girl on the other side of the counter considers my words, and I know by the torn look in her eyes I've pulled on her heartstrings a little. _Victory is mine!_ She looks around swiftly to ascertain that we're alone, then reaches for a hefty white binder on the shelf underneath her and opens it. She lets her finger run down the page, stopping three quarters of the way down.

"Jacob Wheeler, here it is," she murmurs a little to herself, and I hold my breath.

She looks up at me before consulting the book again. "He isn't here today or tomorrow, which means he'll be on duty Wednesday."

I exhale, relieved, before I hear footsteps behind me, the clickety sound of low heels approaching. _Time to cha-cha outta here!_ , I tell myself, merrily.

"Thank you so much," I smile widely at the girl, then turn around swiftly before the other attendant who's just returned can study me too closely.

"Have a nice day, ma'am!"

I leave the building and open my compact umbrella against the rain. _Oh, today will be nice, indeed, but Wednesday will be twice as nice!_ , I nearly laugh aloud, studying my joyful reflection in the puddles lining the sidewalk.

* * *

When the fateful day arrives, I can hardly contain my excitement as I sit in my car, far enough from the parking lot to avoid raising suspicion, but close enough to catch all early morning movements. I am not sure how and when firefighters' shifts start, but I'm more than willing to sit out here all day if necessary to find out.

The morning is sunny and warm for fall, and I play with the radio stations until I find some doo-wop tunes I can hum along to. I remember listening to this kind of music when I was little in the backseat of my mom's car. It was her favorite type of music. Maybe they were happy times because _he_ wasn't there, I muse, biting down on the inside of my cheek. I have very few positive memories tied to my father. His favorite game to play with me was slapping my face or kicking my behind and then locking me in the closet for a few hours so I could "learn my lesson". What that lesson was, I still don't know to this day. He wasn't nearly so rough with my younger sister, so back then I used to think there was something the matter with _me_. I'd sit in that closet and think up ways to change my personality so that he wouldn't get so upset with me. Other times I'd just cry until I fell asleep. Sometimes, my mom would find me in there, curled into a fetal position, and the screaming matches with my father would begin.

My parents worked together in a plant that produced oil used for cooking on the outskirts of New Jersey. We never really had a "normal" family, for my sister and I basically raised ourselves. My mother had the habit of smoking marijuana after her gruesome shift at work, "to relax", she would explain to anyone that was inquiring. I remember the piles of dirty dishes in the sink and the flies, the unswept floors and the piles of smelly clothes in the laundry room. When my father would get home and see the condition of the house, he would angrily question my mom about it, but seeing that it was useless trying to reason with somebody who was already high at six o'clock in the evening, he would take the issue up with me. I was the eldest, and in his mind, the next responsible person in line.

I never really understood the relationship between my parents. Sometimes they talked to each other like normal human beings, especially at breakfast. Other times, my father would plant one on my mom's face and she would throw the closest lamp at him to retaliate. At nighttime, I would witness my father dragging my mom from the couch into the bedroom, pulling her by her arms, and sometimes she was clear-headed enough to protest. The door to their room would slam to a close and the sound of moans would follow short after, mixed to that of bed springs singing, and I was never really sure if my mom was voicing her opposition or her submission to my father. She was a beautiful woman with fine lineaments and a graceful body, while my father was more heavy-set and menacing. I have to admit that I never really understood their pairing.

One day, while my father was handling me more roughly than usual, a sudden ball of hatred took life inside me. I could feel its fire growing, menacing. The injustice of my family situation, the abuse I endured, weighed on my lungs as if to cut off all oxygen, and for the first time I fought back. We were standing at the top of the basement stairs and I pushed back against my father with such force that he fell. I still think it was the impact of the surprise that caused him to tumble down the stairs, for I had never rebelled against his ways before. My spirit was too dead most of the time.

I watched as his body tumbled down the jagged wooden stairs and after a loud cracking sound, he collapsed at the bottom with a pained groan. I stood at the top of the stairs, my heart exploding in my chest, as I reached on my tiptoes to get a better glance at his body. It was placed at an unnatural angle and dark blood was slowly pooling around his head. I calmly closed the door, walking away. I didn't scream nor did I investigate further.

My mom and sister had been out at a parent-teacher meeting, and they found me cleaning the house upon their return. I had just finished the dishes when I informed my mom that I had heard some noise coming from the basement, but that I had not gone to see what was happening because I had been too busy with chores.

To this day I do not understand my mom's tears when the police came to roll his body away. She was an utter mess, while I felt victorious and finally _free_ of his reign of terror. Why couldn't she see how much better off we were without him? I started taking charge of the house with my father finally gone, and things seemed to be improving, except for my mom's depression. She became more sullen and less present mentally, and I was secretly angry at her for not seeing his absence as a blessing. She could have bloomed like a garden at springtime had she wanted to! No chains, no pain, no worries. Just glorious relief.

Unfortunately, my mom died not much later when she collided with a bus on the way home from work. Part of me always wonders if that was her wish, to end her life. Maybe she missed my father too much, maybe the memory of him was too difficult for her to bear.

I am taken out of my private musings when I see a small SUV maneuvering to park in the lot. There are a few other cars parked despite the early hour and I let my eyes focus.

A smile possesses my lips once I see that it's Wheeler who's stepping out of the vehicle, and I hold my breath for fear he can hear me. But he's oblivious to my secret spying on him. The first thing I notice is his red hair, rebellious and sexy, a perfect frame for his attractive face. I had never noticed the color before because the firefighter's helmet concealed it the day we met.

I can already see my lips tracing that strong jaw line and my eyes greedily take in the sight of his sculpted chest and arms in a simple t-shirt. Broad shoulders move easily with his unhurried pace, jeans and sneakers worn effortlessly despite their effect on me. He's busy examining his phone for a few seconds, then shoves it in his back pocket before entering the building.

 _Holy fuck, he's even hotter than I remember!_ I think with an actual squeal, hitting my open palms on the steering wheel in front of me. _Now there's a man worth chasing!_ He is incredibly stimulating. I have often felt bored by men; no one has ever had a lasting impact on me so far. Sure, I've had my one-night stands and brief relationships, but nothing has tempted my appetite enough to continue on. _Until now_. This Wheeler, he seems the perfect mix of sweet and strong, passionate and vulnerable. My mind is already running away with me as I picture myself in his strong arms.

I sit in my car a little longer, twisting the delicate silver chain on my neck around my index finger. With the other hand, I take my phone and zoom in on his license plate before snapping a photo.

"I'm going to need that if I'm to track your movements for a while, _Jacob_ ," I say out loud, grinning satisfied. I start my car and put on my designer sunglasses to cover my eyes.

"We're meant to be, honey, you just don't know it yet. Don't worry, I'm here to help you figure it all out. It'll be a piece of cake, you'll see. After all… I _always_ get what I want."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews, everyone! My Guest always makes me laugh :)

* * *

Chapter 7

Wheeler blinked, deep in thought. He was at the supermarket, standing in front of a yogurt section that was pristinely arranged. It was almost hypnotizing. The American was trying to remember which brand Linka preferred, but all he knew was that she was partial to the vanilla and strawberry kind. He picked up one of each, figuring that if he chose the fat-free alternative, he couldn't be more spot on than that.

He was musing on women's and men's differing tendencies around food when he turned from the display. His observations were amusing him. He saw that the majority of the female shoppers had fresh fruit and vegetables in their carts, neatly arranged of course, while the men lugged around boxes and cans in their outstretched arms filled to capacity. Leave it to women to make it look effortless and to men to make it seem painful!

Wheeler heard a greeting being voiced in his direction and he looked up from the things he was holding in his arms. He was doing a balancing act worthy of a brilliant circus performer, and the thought made him smile ironically to himself.

"Hi," the voice came again, and when he lifted his eye, he saw a woman roughly his age obstruct the isle before him. She was vaguely familiar but he could not remember where he had seen her before.

"I don't suppose you remember me," she was smiling, and Wheeler took the time to examine her properly. Easy on the eyes, she was dressed in a form fitting dress with expensive looking boots. Her hair was sleek and brown, layered in the front and brushing just past her shoulders, and her eyes were pretty under a layer of lavender eye shadow. It made the green of her orbs stand to attention.

"Uhm," Wheeler could only think to say, for he didn't want to offend her. He was having problems placing her. What if she was an ex-fling he could no longer remember? Needless to say, that would be more than a little awkward.

"I suppose I look different without the oxygen mask plastered to my face," the girl laughed a little, and the tone of her voice was warm. It was like a cat purring in the sunlight of an open window.

"I'm Casey," she went on smiling, and Wheeler noticed the way her eyes dwelled into his, the happiness contained in them. She seemed relaxed and at ease before him. He bid his time blinking blankly.

She continued on when she saw that he still wasn't reacting to her words. "From the burning bank? Remember, I was trapped in the bathroom? You saved me?"

Wheeler's face instantly gave signs of recognition and he nodded vigorously. _Of course!_ He remembered she had been out for most of the incident and how she'd needed a reassuring word upon her awakening. Wheeler was often moved by the vulnerability of victims, and the fact that he could help minimally with that made his job all the more satisfying to him. Kwame called it his "hero complex" and Wheeler just shrugged it off.

"Casey!" he smiled at last, and she joyously reached to shake his hand in turn. "How are you?"

"Alive, thanks to you," she laughed a little, and Wheeler carefully retrieved his hand from her warm grip. She did not seem too keen to terminate the contact. They moved aside to let pass a young woman with a wailing toddler in her shopping cart.

"Did you get transferred?" Wheeler conversed as their eyes met again. "It will be a while before the building is ready to open to the public again."

Casey tilted her head to the side and he could not help but notice the cut of her plunging neckline. He was met with the sight of her generous breasts peeking out under the lace trim. Wheeler promptly shook his head and let his eyes wander up to her face once more. He did not miss her satisfied look and he scolded himself. It didn't matter if she was doing it on purpose, now did it? He had gotten quite good at curbing his appetite for women with Linka in his life, but he was still careful not to find himself in situations where he could be tempted in the first place. The easiest temptations to overcome were inexistent ones, he figured. There was no way he would ever mess up what he had with Linka, it was something he could not even fathom. What he shared with her was too monumental, the realest thing he'd ever experienced. He would forever guard their love with his very life.

"Well, I decided to take advantage of the situation by asking for some time off. Maybe take a vacation or something," Casey was smiling, and Wheeler nodded as a reply.

"You never told me your name. I just remember you as 'my hero'," she went on, flirting shamelessly and apparently enjoying it. Her eyes were sparkling and her lips set in a merry smile.

"You're right, I never introduced myself! I'm Wheeler," he chuckled a little with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "So, do you live in this neighborhood?"

Casey nodded, tucking a strand of stray hair behind her ear. "Yeah! I've never seen you around before today, but you must live around here, as well. Am I right?"

"Yeah, I live just a few blocks from here," Wheeler smiled, shifting the weight in his arms. "But like most men, I don't enjoy shopping of any kind."

Casey continued to smile, and the confident way she was meeting his eyes suddenly made Wheeler an alarm bell ring in the depths of his mind. Something shifted and he started feeling slightly uncomfortable. It could be that he was no longer used to bold women and their bold moves. And there was _something_ brash about this Casey girl. It was her mannerisms. Or perhaps he was imagining everything? For all he knew, Casey could be married. She had no ring on, but still, who knew?

His reassuring thoughts disappeared when Casey placed a light hand on his arm and neared him, her tone lowering with intimacy as she spoke. "Wheeler, you were so great at calming me down on that tragic day, you did something very special I'll never forget. And to be honest, I've thought about you a lot since that day. I can't explain it, really. So… I was wondering if, maybe, I could treat you to dinner, as a sign of my gratitude? There's a great place on Fifth Street, actually."

The shining hope in her eyes cleared the haze in his brain, and he decidedly took a step back. The last thing he wanted was to lead her on in any way. He no longer felt comfortable with this kind of open courtship now that he was in a serious relationship, and he suddenly wondered how other people did it. It seemed exhausting to him now! Maybe it was because he was spoiled nowadays. He felt complete serenity with Linka, nothing of this tug-of-war of the senses, ethereal waltzes that confused and led nowhere.

"There's no need to thank me, I was just doing my job," Wheeler shrugged easily, downplaying her praises. He saw the disappointed look in her eyes, but he continued nonetheless. "I appreciate your offer, Casey, it's sweet of you, but I have to get going or I'll be late picking my girlfriend up from work. I… uhm, I'll see you around?"

Casey's entire aura changed from sunny to stormy-funeral-weather in the blink of an eye. Her shoulders slumped and her eyes became dull. Wheeler had not thought he'd get such an extreme reaction from an innocent revelation such as his, and he inexplicably felt goose bumps forming on his skin. She seemed too tightly wound around her ideas, in his opinion.

"Oh," was all she let out, running her tongue over her suddenly dry lips. Her expression was a cross between confusion and concern.

"Take care, Casey," Wheeler attempted a smile, producing a small wave from underneath the pile of groceries he was hauling. He was not sure what else to add, so he took a step back and watched her nodding her head, almost as if reassuring herself. She seemed immersed in her own little world for a fraction of a second.

"I'll _definitely_ see you around," Wheeler thought he heard her murmur under her breath, but he shrugged it off as he headed for the cash desk, hurrying along. His brain had already moved on to the next task, almost as if deleting Casey from his short-term memory.

He did not see her eyes following his every move.

* * *

 **Casey**

My knuckles are gripping the steering wheel so hard that no blood can reach the tip of my fingers. I keep from screaming by gnashing my teeth together; my breathing becomes labored as a consequence. I watch incredulous as the blonde walks into his outstretched arms, their wide smiles a painting radiating joy. The redhead reaches out to cup her face and kisses her in the middle of the street. People are walking by them but they pay no heed. They are like new butterflies wrapped up in a cocoon of love. Their body language speaks volumes, they are so comfortable being so near, skin and lips touching, eyes closed to the world.

A bout of all consuming anger travels through me like electricity as I sit in my car spying on them. It is the same rage I used to feel as a child, poison through my veins. Helplessness turns me into a dragon. It's like I am breathing out fire.

I am utterly saddened to learn that Wheeler is far gone over this girl. The way his eyes are laughing in his face, his lingering touch on her body, those arms welded shut around her waist. All clear indications he is in love. I almost need time to mourn over it.

I keep replaying in my mind his refusal of my offer, his polite but distant way of relating to me. It's a sharp contrast to the sparkle in his eye I witnessed when he mentioned _her_. I wonder what it is I did wrong. Maybe I presented myself in a way that is too subtle, not sexy enough. But, surely, men have few inhibitions when it comes to bedding an attractive female? I've seduced married men with far less effort than I tried doing with Wheeler. So, what went wrong?

Maybe it's not about me but more about _her_. _Of course, she would have to go and be gorgeous_ , I groan to myself, as I watch them finally coming up for air. Wheeler takes her hand and leads her along on the crowded sidewalk. She holds his hand radiantly, the other hand placed on his firm bicep to steady herself. I would love to rip out a handful of her blonde hair right about now, I seethe, taking note of my rival's beautiful curves, long legs and front-page face. She's someone men notice instantly, while women try to ignore her in order to boost their own self confidence. You can't look at her too long without feeling like shit if you're a female!

I bite my lower lip, hoping I am not drawing blood. My silent fury only increases by the second. I have to say I'm not fully surprised, I had remotely anticipated that Wheeler would already be in a relationship. Someone so gorgeous and easygoing, with a great career on top of it, well, you don't see that in a man every day. But I never expected the competition would be so fierce! Let alone the fact that his love interest is a fucking supermodel, she also apparently works for the WWF, judging by the building she just exited. That means she has to be somewhat intelligent, as well. Usually, those type of organizations are run by scientists, economists, lawyers, researchers and politically-driven individuals. My adversary is a hot hippie, then! The worst kind! My father always hated hippies and bra-burning damsels, and I have inherited this characteristic from him. _His legacy to me_ , I muse, slowly running my tongue over my teeth. I guess his blood does run in my veins, after all.

I have never let a few setbacks alarm me before, I decide, drawing in a deep breath and slowly smiling at my reflection in the rear view mirror. I let a finger run over one eyebrow before I reach to fix my hair a little. A determined woman is looking back at me, and I am satisfied. I'll do what I have to do, play the game whichever way, but one thing is for certain. _That boy is mine_. And that bitch is history.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

 **Casey**

I've been following my little blonde _friend_ for a while. I divide my time between her and Wheeler. I feel inebriated by desire anytime I steal a peek at him, fury when I study her. Anyone's habits are easy to decipher. People usually take the same route to get to the same place to do the same thing. Day in, day out. It's kind of depressing if you think about it.

When Wheeler isn't working, he drives her everywhere. To and from work, the mall, the gym. He always leans in to kiss her goodbye when he drops her off, and readily takes her in his arms with another kiss upon her return. _Lucky whore_!

A couple of days a week, however, she takes the subway to reach the office. This is when Wheeler is working his twenty-four hour shifts. She is very confident of herself as she walks, doesn't smile or make conversation with anyone on her journey to work. She keeps a book in her purse she peruses once in a while, other times she is texting away on her phone. I've noticed Wheeler does this, too, when they are not together. They like to message each other a lot, apparently. My stomach turns at their sweetness.

She draws attention on the street. Her blonde hair is eye catching, her features appealing, and her style elegant. She likes wearing skirts and dresses, elegant flats and colored, airy scarves. A little elite New Yorker mixed with a touch of overseas class. Hmm.

I'm waiting for her to be finished work as I sit inside my car. Etta James is belting out "At Last" on the radio, and I hum along, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel contemporarily. Outside, a chilly wind is blowing and I watch her emerge on the street, before she crosses over to reach the coffee shop. Sometimes she grabs a coffee before heading home. Since things are going according to plan, a slow smile spreads on my face.

I turn to the passenger seat and pick up the wig I'm going to wear. It is black and the hair is styled into a bob. I put it on, concealing my real hair carefully, before I also sport a pair of thick black-rimmed glasses over my eyes. I look fashionable. Neither of them has to know I've been keeping tabs on them, so I can't afford to look too familiar. I smile at my reflection, satisfied at my disguise. I leave the warmth of my car and hurry towards the café.

I find her standing at the end of a long line and I get in behind her. Apparently, everyone is hoping for something warm to drink in order to fight off the sudden cold day. But I don't mind waiting. I've got all the time in the world.

"What a line!" I say aloud, nearing her. I hope it sounds friendly as I accompany the phrase with a smile. I catch her off guard a little. Her eyes meet mine for a second, then she blinks and looks towards the counter once more, deciding to ignore me a little. I can tell she's not one for small talk.

 _Up close, she is even more of a knock-out!_ , I decide, clenching my fists in the pockets of my wool coat. My fingers are itching to leave some ugly marks on her pretty face. I note that her skin is soft and supple, her lips pouty, and her eyes are of an amazing color. While mine are basic green, hers are a vibrant green mixed with a speck of aquamarine. Those eyes could break a man's heart in two.

"Do you think it will take long to get a coffee?" I ask her directly, trying to be nonchalant all the while as I push my glasses up my nose. She has no choice but to answer now!

Her voice is careful, her tone low, and she shrugs a little as she speaks. "I do not think so. There is usually good service here even when it is busy."

 _Shit, this chick is straight out of a 007 movie_!, I think, with a mixture of amazement and exasperation. She's like the sexiest spy ever! How can I compete with that accent?

She moves up a little in line, leaving me behind and dumbfounded. I wasn't expecting her to be a foreigner. I don't know why that throws me off, but it makes me feel less confident somehow. She's suddenly changed the rules and I _hate_ not being in control. I dig my nails into my palms to feel something other than momentary loss, and I continue to play my part.

"That's good to hear," I say, closing the gap in line. With what I hope is a harmless smile, I newly turn to her. "That's a great accent! Are you Slavic?"

"Russian," she precises curtly, bored by the question she probably hears multiple times in a day. She pulls back a strand of hair that has delicately fallen over her forehead in the meanwhile.

"What a coincidence!" I all but yelp and a small child looks up at me from her place in the line.

"I'm getting married next month and we are planning a honeymoon in Russia! I'm _so_ excited for it! My fiancé wants to go to Moscow, but I'd love to see St. Petersburg. We can't seem to decide!"

"Two cities both worth seeing," the blonde girl comments as she takes another step closer to the front. Her face is very cool and hard to read, a real dichotomy to Wheeler's openness and spontaneity.

"Will it be very cold this time of year?" I go on, my tone cajoling as I study her moves. I find her an interesting specimen and this pleases me. I like challenges.

"Not particularly, but I would pack warm clothes all the same."

The next thing I know, we've beaten the line and she is standing at the front, ready to order. On the other side of the counter stands an elderly lady with a ready smile. She has tight curls and gold-rimmed glasses, probably a couple of years away from retiring. She could be anyone's grandmother, with that welcoming smile.

I crane my neck to hear their exchange, trying to seem inconspicuous all the while. I take out the cash in my pocket and pretend to count my loose change as I listen in.

"Linka! How are you, my dear? All alone this afternoon?"

"Hello, Janine," smiles the Russian girl, and her face becomes soft. I wonder if we all need sunglasses to keep from being blinded by her beauty right about now. It's like an eclipse. She commends attention so easily, damn it to hell!

"That dashing boyfriend of yours, he is busy again saving the city from calamities?"

Linka chuckles a little and a sparkle lights up her eyes at the mention of Wheeler. _How sweet, they have the same reaction to one other_ , I silently fume to myself, sarcastic.

"I will bring him in to see you tomorrow afternoon, if you would like."

"I've never been one to turn down a good-looking man!" the lady named Janine winks deviously at her, laughing a little. _Whoa, Grandma!_

They finally stop discussing him and she has gotten her coffee by now, in a cup to go. Before leaving, she turns to me and nods a little bit.

"Congratulations on your upcoming wedding."

"Uh… yeah… thanks!" I reply a little off guard, painting on a wide smile, and I watch her making her way towards the exit.

I'm now next in line and Janine is suddenly pestering me about the weather and whether I want to try some new Chai tea to warm up, but I blatantly ignore her. I'm too busy processing things. I'm excited to know a little bit more about my rival and learning her name. _Linka_. So pretty, so _ethnic_. It will surely stand out on a tombstone in our city's beautiful cemetery. _That's where she's headed_.

A burning sensation, not unpleasant, spreads through me, and I feed off its extraordinary energy.

Later on that afternoon, I happily walk into my hairdresser's shop. The smell of flowery shampoo reaches my nostrils as I close the door behind me, and I exchange a few pleasantries with her. I'm in a very good mood. I may just be at the top of a rollercoaster.

"So, Casey, the usual?" smiles the petite copper-haired woman, ushering me along to the washing station.

"I was thinking of changing it up this time around."

"Oh, okay… great! And what did you have in mind?"

I can tell she is a bit phased by my reply, since I'm usually meticulous about keeping my hair pretty basic. I've had the same haircut for a while, no need to change it when it looks so fabulous on me. Change is something I do not warm up to easily. But today, I am feeling inspired. Extremely so, in fact.

Slowly, I take off my coat and hang it up, before turning to her with a wide smile.

"I was thinking of going blonde. Oh, and do you do extensions?"

The hairdresser looks at me dumbfounded, as if I've morphed into a giant ant before her eyes.

I laugh in response, mirth oozing out of me, and I actually wink at her.

"You have my full permission to turn me into a bombshell!"

 **To Be Continued…**

* * *

A/N: Crazy is the new sexy, LOL! This is as far as I got, everybody, not sure I'll have time to add to it for a while...

Thanks for R&R :)


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